


Drabbles A La Mode

by MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy/pseuds/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles from reader prompts. Mostly tame, but keeping my options open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I freak out every time it rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @phrynefisherismyrolemodel (mewme) for the prompt

"Now Dorothy, I thought you had moved past your fear of the telephone?"

"I did, I mean I have. That is, I did, until we started getting those calls."

"Which calls Dorothy?"

Dot flushed, trying to find the words.

"We have been getting some very...um, scandalous calls...late at night Mr. Butler."

Mr. Butler nodded his head in sudden understanding.

"Ah, _those_ kinds of calls Dorothy. Now you can’t let those upset you. Just simply inform the caller that we are well connected with the police."

"But that’s just it Mr. Butler, I think it _may **be**_ the police!"


	2. things you said at the kitchen table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A request for Hugh and Mr. Butler by @phrynefisherismyrolemodel(mewme)

"Mr. Butler, can I ask you something?"

"Certainly Constable Collins."

"Uh, Hugh if you please."

"Alright then, Hugh, what seems to be on your mind?"

"Oh, ah yes, right...On my mind."

"Would this by chance have anything to do with this evening?"

Mr. Butler though the young man’s laugh was just shy of madness.

"I just...well, I was wondering about….You see, Miss Fisher gave me this book…."

"Ah, I think I know what this is about. Better sit down Hugh and I’ll put on some cocoa."

"Miss Fisher and Dorothy are with Madam Fleuri finishing her wedding dress. We have a bit of time for a chat."


	3. He's Recovering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie and Phryne find common ground. Prompt from SarahToo

“Rosie, I know we are not exactly friends, but do you want to talk about it?”

“With you Phryne, I don’t think so.”

“Listen, I know a thing or two about overly complicated paternal relationships.”

“Really? Did your father manage to make the front page of the paper for a month.”

“Well, if you count our time in England, as well as Australia, then yes!”

That at least inspired a small chuckle from Rosie.

“I was prepared to cut him out of my life forever for what he did to those poor girls. And then he goes and has a heart attack.”

The tears were unstoppable once she’d said the words out loud. Phryne handed over a fresh handkerchief. 

“It sounds as if he’ll make a full recovery.”

“That’s the thing Phryne, I don’t know what upsets me more. The heart attack, or that he’s survived it.  I...I think I have become a terrible person.”

“No Rosie, you are the daughter of a man who has done terrible things. We are not our father’s crimes.”


	4. I Made a Promise to Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different first meeting for Rosie and Mac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @SarahToo - thanks for the prompt and giving me an open pairing.

“You look about as bored as I feel.”

“Damn, I was going for apathetic.”

That drew a chuckle from the beautiful brunette who had joined her at the sweets table. Mac sized her up, using the quick assessment methods that had served her well as both a doctor and in her Sapphic pursuits. She was tall, elegant, and clearly belonged here. Unlike Mac, who had “earned” the right to be this bored by bringing a new surgical technique to the woman’s hospital that was going to both cut costs and more importantly leave less scarring on patients.

“You look familiar but I don’t think we’ve met. I’m…”

“You are Doctor Elizabeth MacMillan, woman of the hour at today’s luncheon.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you know who I am. I don’t exactly fit in with the rest of this crowd. But now you have me at a real disadvantage. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“Ah, I am surprised no one pointed me out to you right away, I am Rosie. Rosie Robins..., Sanderson. Rosie Sanderson.”

“Ms. Sanderson, I made a promise to myself long ago to avoid two things - gossip and cheap whiskey. Nothing good comes from either.


	5. I’ve never seen anything like the way you handled that. I’m just so moved.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac and Rosie. Maybe they are still friends here, maybe more...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @meldanya - who needed a little Mac/Rosie in her life.

 

“I can’t believe how brave you are, Dr. MacMillan. I don’t think I could do that every day. Face men like Doctor Matthews, I mean.”

“Please Rosie, call me Mac. And yes you could, I am sure of it. You are stronger than you realize.”

“But he’s also the President of the Board. To stand up to him like that on behalf of someone you barely know.”

“Rosie, no one deserves to be spoken to like that. No one. I may have been raised in Collingwood, by my parent’s certainly taught me that much.”

“Can someone from Richmond take a woman from Collingwood out for a drink?”


	6. It crept up slowly while I was unaware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It crept up slowly while I was unaware, and I think that’s the best kind of love. When it’s so natural you don’t even notice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @kanste who gave me several fabulous prompts to work with from this [list](http://thehonorablemrsmccarthy.tumblr.com/post/145758225770/want-a-miss-fisher-story) Big love for being such a wonderful fanfic reader/supporter. You make it all worthwhile!

He never asked her for anything. Not a promise, nor an elaborate set of conditions. 

She looked over at the man standing next to her on the balcony. 

Yes, he was handsome, but she had handsome before. 

Yes, he was thoughtful. That too, she had experienced from a lover. 

He was witty. Not uncommon, but his particular dry humor suited her incredibly well. 

He was noble. In theory, nobility had swirled around her since becoming the daughter of a Baron, but his nobility was the product of an internal moral code, not rank.

He was steadfast.  A rarer quality to be sure. Most of the bright young things she listed as sexual conquests were more earnest than anything else. You had be tested by life to truly earn steadfast.

He had worked his way into her heart - not because of any one of those things, it was because he was all of those things. 

A small commotion below snapped her from her reverie. She turned her focus below to the beaming newlyweds, Jane and Avery. The crowd of single women had gathered and Jane threw her bouquet amidst the buzz of anticipation.

Later, she would imagine whether it was really due to adrenaline or something akin to fate, but the bouquet sailed up and over the railing and right into his hands.

He turned his head to look at her, face filled with mischief and mirth. They just stood there a moment looking into each other’s eyes. Then she held out her hand to him.

"You’ll turn my head yet, Jack Robinson."

 


	7. Like Mother, Like Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you stab him?” “No! I’m offended that you’d even ask that. I hit him with a brick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @jj-thomas.

Jack found them in the library. The two women were standing over the prone body of man. The knife sticking out of his back, giving some indication as to his present condition. He was, however, still breathing as the knife was not in an area to cause serious damage.

“Miss Fisher, is this how you greet all of your house guests?”

“Well Jack, I think you are more than just a typical house guest, don’t you?”

“Did you stab him?”

“No! I’m offended that you’d even ask that. I hit him with a brick.”

Jack surveyed the scene again and caught sight of the brick a foot away from the apparent assailant.

“I stabbed him. I’m rustier than I thought though, so I missed what I was aiming for, his heart.”

“You missed his heart because he’s your ex-beau mother. And where are my manners! Mother, may I present Senior Detective Inspector, Jack Robinson. The finest the Victoria Police Force has to offer. And Jack, this is Margaret Ariadne Fisher, Baroness of Richmond”

Jack shook his head good-naturedly, as he always did when she went out of her way to introduce him with such puffery. He took the hand Margaret extended to him and kissed the back of it.

“I am very glad to finally meet you Baroness. Thank you for inviting me as your guest.”

“My goodness Phyrne, you did not do this man justice when you described his voice.”

Jack was not prone to blushing, but his cheeks unmistakably warmed at the unexpected flattery. And he was unable to meet either woman’s gaze for a moment. Fortunately, a groan from the man on the carpet snapped them back to the situation at hand. Jack and Phryne both crouched down to attend to the man.

“Monsieur Poirot, I might suggest you stay down a moment. We’ll have to attend to this knife. It’s not a serious wound, but it may bleed quite a bit. Mother? Be a darling and ring for some ice for the poor man.”

Phryne turned back and caught the amused look on Jack’s face.

“So, am I to understand that Hercule Poirot and your mother are ‘old friends’ then?”

“Jack Robinson, if you insinuate in any way, shape, or form that I am like my mother, so help me, I will....” She only flashed irritation for a moment, even Phryne couldn't’ help but smile at the silliness of the situation.

“Monsieur, I am not quite in a place to interject, but if I may offer up a tiny suggestion, kiss her.”

Jack’s face erupted from slightly amused to full-blown delight.

“I missed you, Miss Fisher.”

“I missed you, Jack Robinson.”

But truly, actions speak far greater than words sometimes and the kiss they shared, spoke volumes.


	8. Perfectly Unreasonable.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Care for a waltz, Miss Fisher?"  
> "Are you sure you want to risk it?"  
> "What's the risk?"  
> "Well, I have waltzed with the best - French presidents, English princes, American film stars. The waltz is a very serious dance."  
> "And I'm a serious man."  
> "My mother lost all reason when she was waltzed."  
> "Well, if she hadn't, this would be a world without a certain Phryne Fisher in it, and what kind of world would that be?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @gaslightgallows (hearts_blood) to fill the prompt “I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet.” “I keep trying but nobody lets me get very far.” (Phrack)

They didn’t usually wrap up a case in the middle of the afternoon where Jack didn’t have to dash back to the station. They certainly never wrapped up a case by waltzing together.

Phryne never took her eyes off Jack, nor could he seem to pry his eyes away from her. And aside from the time he carried her to safety, the longest they had ever been in physical contact with each other. Next to each other on a stakeout not counting at all.  

Two minutes and 59 seconds. 

Almost three minutes of being in each other's arms. No wonder her mother had been seduced all those years ago when contact with a man was even further limited.

Although, they remained in closed dance position for quite a few moments after the last notes had faded. Heald closely, just staring into each other’s eyes, both breathing a little faster and a little heavier than the brief turn on the dance floor would have warranted for fit people like themselves.

“I am a little out of sorts. Normally, we’d be in my parlour, going over the last of the case, or discussing Rilke and the like to  _ not  _ think about the case. And Mr. B would ensure we were stocked up with nightcaps.”

“It’s true. But here we are, late afternoon and standing in the ballroom of The Grand. As the case has to do with your father, should I assume you want to discuss Rilke?”

She smiled up at him for that. No one had the ability to diffuse her foul moods with a quip as well as Jack and Mac. Jack’s waltzing skills, however, surpassed Mac’s, so he did have an advantage at the moment.

“I hope you don’t think this too forward, Miss Fisher.”

“Yes, Jack?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet.” 

“I keep trying, but nobody lets me get very far.”

Jack laughed at that. 

Jack, laughed.

Phryne beamed up at him, as they still hadn’t released each other from their dance position.

“Jack Robinson, laughs! What an intoxicating discovery.”

Jack dipped his chin and shot her a look that was part challenge, part invitation.

“I believe I told you once before that it'd be a tactical error to think you had me pegged just yet, Miss Fisher.”

“I am beginning to think you might actually be right, Jack.”

“How would you feel about joining me this evening at a charming bungalow not too far from here. The chef is not Cordon Bleu trained, but I have it under good authority that he makes a an impressive lamb stew from a closely guarded family recipe.”

“Closely guarded, you say? That means there must be a secret ingredient. You do know how much I love a mystery, Jack.”

And with that, they finally shifted their bodies, so that she had one arm linked around his as they made their way out. All reason may not have been lost, but it had certainly been shifted on its axis.


	9. Journey's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I had avoided falling in love, or allowing anyone to fall in love with me, for well over a decade. So really, it crept up slowly while I was unaware. I think now that’s maybe the best kind of love. When it’s so natural you don’t even notice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promot= "It crept up slowly while I was unaware, and I think that’s the best kind of love. When it’s so natural you don’t even notice.” (Phryne/Mac)  
> For @whiskeyandjack - who probably didn't expect the angst level to be this high, but this is what popped into my brain.

“It crept up slowly while I was unaware, and I think that’s the best kind of love. When it’s so natural you don’t even notice.”  Phryne/Mac   
  


They were too good of friends for Mac to ask Phryne how she was doing. The two women had been through best and worst life had to offer. Mac knew Phryne would say what she needed to when the time was right. 

Instead, she filled their glasses and sat by her friend on the sofa in front of the fireplace. When the words came, her voice was husky from a combination of lack of use and emotion.

“Flirtation came so easily. You know me Mac. But he was so quick to diffuse my charms. Instead, his piercing blue eyes cut through the games and looked at me. Really looked at me. 

I had avoided falling in love, or allowing anyone to fall in love with me, for well over a decade. So really, it crept up slowly while I was unaware. I think now that’s maybe the best kind of love. When it’s so natural you don’t even notice.”

Mac watched as Phryne’s fingers traced over the swallow pin she wore over her heart. The pin was made all the more prominent by the all-black background upon which it was perched. Mac was struck by the sparkle the relatively simple pin had in the light streaming through the window in the late afternoon sun.

Mac’s heart ached for her friend and wished she could do more than sit and share in her grief.

“I told him to come after me. My own selfish desires taking over like an impetuous child. I’m the one who insisted on returning my ridiculous father to England. And then on top of it, I goad him into coming after me like the romantic lead in some silly operetta. With modest means and a serious job he loves, and I want HIM, to follow ME! Oh Mac, I wish you had been there to talk some sense into me, or HIM.”

“Now Phryne, even if I had been there that morning, it would have made no difference. Not even a thundering herd could have stopped that moment. You two had been building up to some grand gesture for weeks, you could argue months! And secondly, he is a grown man, fully capable of making his own mind up about following headstrong, foolish women, and twice-damned foolish fathers, halfway around the world. He damn well knew the risks of letting himself love you Phryne and he chose it, for better or for worse. Not even the great and honorable Phryne Fisher could have foreseen another ship colliding with his at a harbor stop.”

“Dammit Mac, why didn’t I tell him?”

Mac could hardly look her in the eyes, the depth of sadness was just too much. She hadn’t seen that abyss appear since Janey.

“He knew Phryne.”

“But lost now. Lost at sea? For a man so surefooted, it seems extra cruel somehow.”

The sob that had been threatening for the past few minutes finally broke free.

Mac reached out and just held her friend and let her cry. There wasn’t anything else she could do. A fact she hated with every ounce of her being. She knew what it meant to lose someone. She knew the hollowness that consumed you, the bitterness of lost opportunities, the sorrow over what could have been. Her own eyes filled with tears and the two women just sat and let the grief pour over them. 

There was a tentative knock on the parlour doors. And an even more hesitant voice on the other side. “Miss, I hate to bother you miss, but it’s a telegram arrived and the carrier insists its urgent.”

“I’ll go Phryne. You stay here.”

As Mac stood up to attend to the urgent message Phryne reached out and grasped her hand. She mouthed more than said “thank you,” before slumping back over onto the sofa.

Mac bruskly opened the parlour doors and the maid squeaked in surprise. She was even mousier than Dot was, Mac thought to herself. She was shaking her head in disbelief and wiping the last of her tears from her face when she greeted the carrier. Her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Um, Ma’am, the sender was most urgent I hand this parcel and telegram to the Honorable Phryne Fisher, and no one else.”

“Right then, I see.”

Mac took very few strides to make her way back to the doors of the parlour.

“Phryne! Phryne love, you better come here.”

Phryne couldn’t believe that even Mac had fallen prey to her maid’s tendency toward theatrics. She dabbed her face with a handkerchief as she tore herself from the couch and made her way to the door.

“Really, Mac? Has everyone suddenly gone mad?!”

At that point, she all but swallowed her own tongue. Her eyes locked on the unusual parcel being held forth. It was a battered brown fedora, but being held by altogether the wrong set of hands.

“Lyle Compton? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Phryne, they called in all nearby units to search the wreckage. It’s being called the second worst maritime disaster in history. The explosion from the other vessel caused major damage to the port and in the chaos, a lot of misinformation has gone out. Phryne, not all the passengers made it back onto the ship before the explosion. This passenger, for instance, was found collapsed in the wreckage at the dock after he frantically tried to carry folks to safety after the explosion.”

“Jack.” She let the tears stream freely.

“He’s alive Phryne. Badly hurt, but alive. He’s at the military hospital. I can take you there. But first, he begged a nurse to pen this.” He handed her the telegram. Mac sidled in closer to Phryne, just enough so that Phryne knew she was there.

"Journeys end in lovers meeting,   
Every wise man's son doth know.”

“Jack.” She turned towards Mac, the light slowly returning to her eyes. “Jack!” 

She smiled softly and then wrapped her arms around Mac tightly “JACK!!”

This time, the tears shared were ones of happiness.

  
_ Shakespeare quote for notes  _ [ _ Twelfth Night (II, iii, 44-45) _ ](http://www.enotes.com/twelfth-text/act-ii-scene-iii#twe-actii-sec-iii-40)


	10. The Color of Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The short hair was hardly the most significant change in Mac’s life that had taken place over the past four months. Mac was by all accounts happy. She had been content before. She had felt satisfied before. But truly happy? It was something she hadn’t felt in years. Not since Daisy and to this depth, maybe even longer than that. Amelia had moved into Mac’s flat and the two had been playing house ever since. They were as bad as newlyweds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for @whiskeyandjack : "The day I realized I was in love was dark and cold and wet and all I remember was the color of her eyes.” (Phryne & Mac)

The ice clinked pleasantly in their glasses and added to the general cacophony of noises, scents, and colors of the warm spring evening. They were sitting together companionably on the back patio of Wardlow. Tucked up together on the chaise.

Mac’s newly cropped locks ensured she could feel the warm breeze that was blowing across her neck. The sensation was soothing and added to the general laziness of the afternoon.

She and Phryne watched as their lovers played a spirited game of badminton with Hugh and Dot Collins. Their laughter punctuated with the occasional curse as the breeze worked against any strategy they might have thought they had. A very sneaky gust of wind elicited a particularly colorful curse from young Mrs. Collins, which sent everyone assembled into a fit of laughter.

The short hair was hardly the most significant change in Mac’s life that had taken place over the past four months. Mac was by all accounts happy. She had been content before. She had felt satisfied before. But truly happy? It was something she hadn’t felt in years. Not since Daisy and to this depth, maybe even longer than that. Amelia had moved into Mac’s flat and the two had been playing house ever since. They were as bad as newlyweds. 

In fact, part of Mac was already planning a muscle rub down for Amelia when they returned home later in the evening. The images in her head caused her to raise her gin & tonic to her chest. The condensation on the outside of the glass cooling her overheated flesh.

“Elizabeth MacMillan, are you having impure thoughts about that woman out there?”

“No less scandalous than the ones you are harbouring for the man next to her.”

“Mmmm, touche my friend. There are definitely one or two impure thoughts I might have entertained for that man out there.”

Mac snorted and looked down at Phryne who had laid down on the chaise like Cleopatra herself and was at present devouring her Marc Antony with her eyes.

“Phryne Fisher in lust I know all too well, it’s Phryne Fisher in love that still gives me pause.”

Phryne shifted her position so she could look at Mac without straining.

“Who said I was in love?”

Mac raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“No one would fault you for admitting it Phryne. Everyone can see how happy he makes you.”

“Hmph, and what of you? Taking up with Amelia and basically married at this point? I’ve never seen you like this before Mac. I am so glad you finally feel comfortable with all of us to share Amelia.”

“I’ve never loved anyone like her before. Not even Daisy who you know I cared for tremendously.”

“How did you know you were in love?”

“ The day I realized I was in love was dark and cold and wet, truly dreary weather. But just thinking about the color of her eyes when she smiles warmed me to my core and left me breathless. Not because of how beautiful they are, although that is certainly the case. It was because her eyes are the color of 25 year old scotch, leather-bound books, strong tea, and freshly polished oak. I realized they were the color of home.”


	11. Journey's Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac and Phryne are on their way to Jack in Algiers. A continuation of [Chapter Nine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6985159/chapters/16524223)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I gave myself a prompt fill, because reasons. “I am five minutes away from saying fuck it and setting it on fire.”

Mac sat across from Phryne in the cabin of the plane. They were fortunate that there happened to be a de Havilland DH.61 Giant Moth at the base in London. Thanks to Phryne and Compton’s connections they had been able secure permission to fly the plane. Thanks to an “old friend” of Mac’s they were able to have the plane ready to fly in an hour. 

Mac kept an eye on her oldest friend as they flew over France. Neither woman had been back to France in years. The two had reunited there after the war, but not under the best circumstances. She had found her friend a shell of her former self, under the power of that vile Renee Dubois. Mac and her friends had helped Phryne escape his abuse and helped restore her inner fire. It was one of the few topics they never discussed.

Suddenly Phryne turned to Mac. her eyes a little wild. “Mac! What about your symposium, the whole point of your trip was to be here for that?”

Mac snorted good-naturedly. 

“Phryne, how that beautiful mind of yours works, never ceases to amaze me! We are quite a ways out from London to be thinking about that now, don’t you think? I think I can manage a quick trip with my oldest friend to see the man who has settled into her heart and make sure he’s in good hands at this hospital. The symposium doesn’t officially start until tomorrow so they will barely miss me.”

“Oh Mac, I...thank you.”

“You know, I’ve become rather fond of him myself, Phryne. Since a certain Lady Detective flew off in a rusty plane with her foolhardy father, Jack and I have been known to spend an evening together. Sometimes it’s draughts, sometimes it’s cards, and there was the rather curious afternoon he, Dot, and I spent perfecting Easter biscuits.”

Phryne snapped out of her haze to look closer at her friend. She hadn’t realized she’d missed so much these past six months.

“You, Dot and Jack? Baking? Together?? How have none of you told me this story?”

“Well, it falls under the category of, it made sense at the time. Dot and Hugh are planning to host their families for an Easter luncheon and Dot wanted a practice run. Well, when Jack and I arrived, Cec and Hugh were out in the early fall sunshine tossing a ball around or the like and Dot was mid panic attack in the kitchen. Apparently, Hugh had mentioned that Easter biscuits were a particular favorite of his mum’s, but didn’t have her recipe. She looked desperately at me and you can imagine my response back to her. I thought the poor thing was going to have nervous breakdown. Well, without skipping a beat, Jack took off his jacket, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. And marched his way into the larder. 

He emerged with a jar of brandied currants and set them on the table with the other baking goods Dot had laid out.  

After a small incident with salt and sugar, Jack instructed me to get pad and paper, declaring that as I was the “woman of science” I was going to be most helpful as note-taker. Do try and wipe that smirk off your face, Phryne. I suspect you would have been no better than I! Anyway, with unexpected precision, Jack marched through not only his mum’s recipe for Easter biscuits, but his sister in-law’s recipe and Cousin Emily’s, as well. Dot was in shock and admiration at Jack’s biscuit-making prowess.”

The story was having its desired effect and Phryne was completely caught up in the tale.

“And, for the record,” Mac continued, “they did let me make the glaze. So there.”

“A very important task, Mac.” Phryne nodded solemnly. 

“So, which recipe won the day? I am sure you all sat down to compare notes on this most important decision.”

“Honestly, I’m having tough time remembering. You see, I may have been sipping the brandy from the currants….”

Both women were giggling when Group Captain Compton informed them that they would be landing shortly.

Mac reached for Phryne’s hand and didn’t let go until the the plane came to a halt on the airfield.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Mrs. Robinson's Recipe](http://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1015815-sedgemoor-easter-biscuits)
> 
>  
> 
> Alternate recipes


	12. Right Kind of Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The day I realized I was in love was dark and cold and wet and all I remember was the color of her eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the events of the [Bombshell & The Ragger](http://http://archiveofourown.org/works/6226756) (which is still not finished, but will be, eventually)

“I’ve never seen you like this, Bert. Are you really going after her?”

“Why not? You and Alice are expecting any day now. Dot will be settling in with Collins playing house for the next few months. Miss Fisher’s gone, for who knows how long, to England. Should I plan on baking cookies with Mr. Butler, or set up a cribbage date with Mrs. S? I mean, what’s keeping me here?!”

“Bert, yes we’re all a bit distracted these days, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t here for you. You know you are welcome over to our place anytime.” 

“I’m tired of always being the third or fifth wheel Cec. When’s it my turn? And I know it seems sudden, but I’m crazy about her and I think she’s crazy about me. Hell, for all I know, we’re both just crazy, but maybe we’re the right kind of crazy together. Miss Fisher gave me a nice bit of front wages before she flew off. If I stay here, I’ll just piss ‘em away at the pub on horses, footy, and pints.”

“Holy smokes, Bert you’re in love! You’ve fallen in love with Angela bloody Lombard!”

“Well hell, I think I might have, mate. How’d you know Alice was the one?”

Cec blushed lightly as he thought about it. Even after all these months, he still blushed thinking about how much he loved his Alice.

“It was just after that poor Latvian bloke was killed on the dock. Dottie told me about the wedding ring he’d never had the chance to give his sweetheart. In a lot of ways, that could have been me out there, Bert. So there I was, lying in bed, staring out at the cold, wet, spring night. And then this image of her eyes hits me, her beautiful dark eyes. And, I just felt, better. It wasn’t lightening bolts and all that business, just happy. Peaceful even. I kid you not, I realized I was lying in bed with a stupid grin on my face. And, that was it, mate. I knew she had my heart, hook, line & sinker. I didn’t want to end up like that poor Latvian fella, so the next morning, I started shopping for a ring.”

“Well, I don’t know about no ring. Technically, she ain’t even divorced yet. But, dammit if there isn’t something there Cec. And, I’d be a fool not to figure out what it is. It’s not peaceful, by any stretch, she’s a firecracker. But, I feel like maybe I’m better when I’m with her. I want to be better when I’m with her.” 

“Sounds like she’s got you good, Bert. Better go after her, mate! Don’t worry ‘bout the cab, we’ll be fine while you’re gone. How long do ya think you’ll be?”

Bert rubbed a hand across his neck. He let out something resembling a chuckle. Telling Cec had made everything feel more real. 

“I don’t rightly know. Guess it depends on how happy she is to see me in Sydney and how the tournament is going, and whether I come up with the right thing to say when she asks why I’m there. I hadn’t thought through that part to be honest. You know wooing ain't’ my strong suit.”

Cec had to chuckle at the tizzy his friend had worked himself into talking through his plan.

“Slow down mate, and breath. The fact you are following her all the way to Sydney is going to tell her a lot I wager. Just go and see what happens!”

“Right! I guess I’m off to get a ticket then. I’m heading out on the first train to Sydney!”

 


End file.
